


Just Imagine...

by coruscamina



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, adrienette - Freeform, just a lot of otp fluff, ladrien, probably mostly AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coruscamina/pseuds/coruscamina
Summary: She didn’t know where to look. She was almost too afraid to let her eyes wander anywhere near the booth in the corner. She was well aware of the fact that her hair was still rosy with embarrassment, if only paler now. Yet, her eyes seemed to gravitate back anyway.Marinette did not expect to find the man staring back at her, his face as flushed as his locks.A series of one-shots inspired by the "imagine your OTP" posts found across Tumblr!





	1. Hair Doesn't Lie

**Author's Note:**

> So I was just looking at a bunch of imagine your OTP posts when I wondered if anyone ever made fanfiction using them as prompts. Then the writing bug came and oh lordy I have a paper to write but I had a migHTY NEED FOR MIRACULOUS FLUFF. Mind the roughness, because this is also un-beta'd.
> 
> I will also be trying to tackle all four sides of the love square, because not every imagine your OTP is an AU! For now, have some way too fluffy aged-up Adrienette.

 

_“What if people’s hair changed color based on their emotions. Like one day you’re out getting a cup of coffee and you notice some cutie in the back of the coffeeshop and your hair starts turning bright pink and you do your best to try to hide it but you can’t help but look over and they’re just sitting there, staring at you, their face as flushed as their locks.” ~misfitreindeer_

 ~~~~~~~~~~

The enveloping warmth of the café was almost tangible as Marinette stepped through the doorway, as if an invisible barrier kept the bitter winter wind outside and away from the smell of coffee beans. She sighed in relief as the cold started to seep from her cheeks, leaving them tingling in an uncomfortable yet pleasant way.

The doorway also served as an interesting changing point. Every new person coming through the doorway instantly flushed with relief, their hair turning tangerine to match. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette could see that her own pigtails had flushed tangerine as well. In contrast, everyone who was leaving was obviously bracing themselves for the cold, as their hair faded into a pale shade of periwinkle to reflect their reluctance. The colorful symphony of tangerine and periwinkle only seemed to highlight how disgruntled Paris was about the unexpected snowfall.

Marinette silently thanked her maman for insisting that she wore a hat and earmuffs today. She had a sixth sense for predicting the weather, and though Marinette felt slightly silly about bundling up so much, she was only thankful now. She stomped her boots of snow and slush on the doormat before making her way to the line.

It wasn’t a surprise to see such a long line winding in front of the counter. Normally the café wasn’t too crowded, which is one of the reasons Marinette favored it in the first place. The surprise snowfall seemed to have attracted many more customers seeking liquid warmth, however. Marinette sighed, wondering if she’d even be able to stay. Every table looked occupied, and the higher volume of chatter wasn’t ideal. Perhaps she’d just get a mocha to-go and visit Alya.

She decided to entertain herself as she waited by watching the ever-changing hair colors around her. While the doorway consistently sported an array of tangerines and periwinkles, a majority of the patrons in the café displayed dark garnet locks of warmth and content. A group of six université students were chortling together, their hair all similar shades of shining gold. A beaming girl wore bright bubblegum pink as her salmon-haired friend congratulated her with genuine sincerity. Two heads of fiery crimson and anxious bronze indicated a heated argument, eyes flashing with belligerence. Marinette quickly slid her eyes away from the fighting couple, feeling as though she saw something she shouldn’t have. Unfortunately, hair didn’t lie, and offered no privacy when it came to people’s feelings. A few are self-conscious enough to always have their hair tucked into hats, but a majority of people learn to accept nature for what it is.

The line was still long, so Marinette continued to let her eyes wander around the crowded café. She gazed longingly at the little corner in the back, where she usually sat every week. Six comfy booths occupied the space by the windows, which offered a wide view of the street. Five of them were taken by families or groups of friends. The last one was _her_ booth, where she spent many afternoons sketching and gazing out the window to watch people walk by.

She mentally stuttered in her thoughts as she focused on the lone man lounging in her booth. He had one arm draped over the back of the seat while the other was resting on the tabletop, his mug within reach of his fingertips. The warm lights of the café seemed to illuminate him to a glow, casting unfairly flattering shadows over his face. His hair was a pensive shade of teal, matching his ruminative expression as he looked out the window as she so often did. His glowing emerald eyes were following the snowflakes drifting down the glass before they suddenly flicked her way, his head turning to follow.

Marinette hastily jerked her head in the other direction. She didn’t notice when her hair began to blush a healthy rose, or when the tingling in her cheeks gave way to glowing heat. She tugged on her hat in an obviously futile attempt to conceal her hair. Only when the person behind her gently poked her shoulder did she squeak and realize that she was next in line. Furiously attempting to calm herself down, Marinette shuffled to her friend and barista, Nathanaël.

“Hey, Marinette.” Nathanaël’s hair was teal with content, though Marinette didn’t miss the slight tinge of rose coloring the tips of his hair. She already knew that he had a small crush on her, not that his hair let him hide the fact. Just like how her rose-colored hair practically screamed of her flustered state.

“Hi Nathanaël!” she said almost too cheerfully. “I’ll have my usual.”

“Peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream, got it,” Nathanaël said. “For here?”

“To-go. Unfortunately, it’s way too crowded today for me to stick around.” She let out a nervous laugh, causing Nathanaël to raise an eyebrow at her.

She paid and quickly skittered to the pick-up counter, trying to divert her nervous energy into rocking on her heels. She didn’t know where to look. She was almost too afraid to let her eyes wander anywhere _near_ the booth in the corner. She was well aware of the fact that her hair was still rosy, if only paler now. Yet, her eyes seemed to gravitate back anyway.

Marinette did not expect to find the man staring back at her, his face as flushed as his locks.

With a squeak she averted her eyes, before shyly bringing them back to the man. The beautiful rose of his hair seemed to grow in intensity when he realized that she was staring back. He snapped his gaping mouth shut before breaking into a sheepish grin.

Marinette couldn’t believe that she was shivering before, because she was positively burning now. She only distantly heard her name, jarring her out of the man’s spell and prompting her to claim her drink. She took a few deep breaths in the weak hope of flushing the rose out of her hair. A quick scan of the rest of the café told her that she still wasn’t going to have any luck finding herself a table. She sighed in resignation as she went to get herself a cup sleeve.

“Excuse me?” Someone tapped her shoulder, his smooth voice unfamiliar.

Marinette fumbled with the sleeve as she turned around and moved aside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to block – ”

A hand caught her elbow, which nearly struck the countertop in her movements. Marinette looked up to thank the stranger, only for the words to die in her throat. The same rosy-haired, emerald-eyed man was now looking down at her, a shy smile on his lips.

“It’s still pretty bad outside,” he said. “It might be better if you wait it out. But I know there aren’t any empty tables, so I was wondering if...you’d like to join me?”

Marinette could only gape at the man. She didn’t know how much rosier her hair could get. She was also hyperaware of the fact that he hadn’t let go of her arm.

He smiled kindly at her, his hair still matching hers. Marinette felt like she could die from embarrassment on the spot. Yet the handsome stranger was inviting her to sit down with him, and the weather was still blustery outside the warm little café. Slowly, she managed to give him a nod.

The man tightened his hold on her elbow to guide her to his booth, _her_ booth, now _their_ booth. Marinette slid mechanically across from where he was sitting, both hands wrapped around her mocha in a vice grip. She had still yet to say anything to the man, but it wasn’t like she didn’t want to. She had still yet to test if her voice had decided to return.

“It appears that we’re matching today,” the man chuckled, gesturing to his hair. “I just couldn’t help but notice you when you were standing in line.”

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment to gather her nerves, before opening them again to meet the man’s gaze. “It’s just...you’re in my spot,” she managed. As soon as the words left her, she wished she could grab them out of the air and stuff them down her throat. Why did she have to sound so _territorial?_

The man blinked in response. “Pardon?” His voice was tinged with genuine confusion.

Marinette let out a nervous laugh. “I-it’s just...ah, usually the café isn’t this c-crowded...and, um, I usually sit here...in this b-booth...a-and, I just...um...” She let her words trail off as she internally winced over her performance.

Laughing. He was laughing. His emerald eyes were sparkling with genuine mirth as his hair colored a golden, daffodil yellow, with only traces of rose still left in the tips. Marinette thought her heart might’ve skipped a beat as she stared at the beautiful man.

“I’m sorry that I’ve stolen your spot,” he chuckled, only causing Marinette’s cheeks to flare up again as she waved around wildly.

“No! I mean, yes! No, I m-mean, ah, you’re good. I don’t mind.” Marinette didn’t know what would be more hazardous to her health, continuing to trip over her words in front of this ridiculously attractive man or banging her head on the table.

The man hummed as he propped his head up with his hand, his golden hair started to take on a rosy shade once again. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Name. She could do that. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, faltering as the man’s gaze became half-lidded. He didn’t answer, prompting her to cough. The man instantly shot upright, his hair instantly flushing entirely rose, along with his cheeks.

“Ah, um...” He let out a nervous laugh, looking down bashfully at the table and rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette couldn’t help giggling.

“Let me try that again,” the man said, looking up with gentle eyes and a shy smile. “My name is Adrien Agreste.”


	2. Fight me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette shifted in discontent as he only waited and smiled, like he was only there to mock her and her terrible lungs. “Fight me,” she growled.
> 
> More snickering, as the pillows began to shift and no he was taking down her pillow fortress! Marinette couldn’t find the strength in her to resist, though. She groaned as Adrien tore down her fortress pillow by pillow, returning them to their proper place at the head of the cot.
> 
> “Maybe later,” Adrien chuckled, pushing her hair away from her face and shoulders. “Relax, I just want to take your vitals.”
> 
> A series of one-shots inspired by the "imagine your OTP" posts found across Tumblr!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, first of all, AAAIIEEEEEEEE thank you all so much for the kudos and the kindness! :3 It means more to me than you know, and I was motivated enough to want to post my second one-shot today. (I can get overeager, yes) No promises on being prompt with future chapters, but I just felt so excited about posting my first work on AO3, especially since I basically stopped being active on FF.net so long ago...
> 
> Anywayssss so on a surface level this one-shot is Adrienette because I’m using their civilian names, but I guessssss it’s LadyNoir or Marichat if you squint? I dunno I just kinda smushed a bunch of references here and there, just take your love square and go nuts, kiddos.
> 
> I also claim no prior knowledge of anything in the medical field. Heck, I never been admitted to a hospital, unless you count the time you’re a newborn. Not to mention, I have no clue what condition the OP was afflicted with. Hence, I’ve kept Marinette’s condition vague, and hopefully it still sounds somewhat believable.
> 
> So yeah, hospital AU ftw!

_“My nurse just came in to check my vitals and I told him to fight me from beneath a mountain of pillows. He just moved my pillows and told me maybe later._

_“He just came in again and when I tried to tell him to fight me again I started coughing and I couldn’t breathe and then he just smiled and told he won’t fight me because he knows I’d win._

_“Apparently I seduced him with my drool and terrible lungs because he wrote his number on a coffee from the gift shop under ‘fight me?’”_

_~ohsebs_

~~~~~~~

In retrospect, Marinette figured that smothering herself in pillows was actually a terrible idea, considering the fact that she was in the ENT unit (she only gathered that it meant that it was for people who had horrible lungs like her) and breathing had become a pain in the ass. Yet she figured that her pillow fortress would help her fend _him_ off.

She only regretted the pillows a tiny bit once she started hacking again. Pushing over one of them allowed her a sliver of a gap to breathe. She groaned and let her arm flop uselessly back onto the mattress. It felt like something was rattling in her throat, only punctuating the throbs in her head, making them more aggressive than usual. Stupid lungs.

The creak of the door alerted Marinette of _him._ Instantly, a shrill voice squealed with delight from the other side of the room. Marinette groaned as she tried her best to burrow deeper under her mountain of pillows. Chloe was an absolute Chihuahua of a roommate, always complaining about how she should’ve gotten her own private suite, there must’ve been a mistake, she’s Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of the major of Paris! Marinette would be lying if she claimed that Chloe was at least _tolerable_ as a roommate.

“Adrien!” Chloe shrieked. “I’m sooo glad you’re here, it’s absolutely _dull_ in here when you’re not around.”

“Chloe, weren’t you supposed to get discharged to a different room this morning?” a masculine voice said tiredly.

“But then they said I’d get a different nurse, and I’d much rather have _you_ taking care of me.” Marinette couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her, picturing Chloe flipping her blonde ponytail and batting her eyelashes. “So I insisted that I stay here.”

“Your father already registered for the change in rooms, so I’m here to take you there now,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in. Another nurse, Marinette realized.

“Wait! Then I _demand_ that Adrien is assigned my private nur – ” Chloe’s cries dissolved into hacking and coughing. Sounds of struggling could be heard from the other side of the privacy curtain as the other nurse presumably forced Chloe to get up and move. Marinette let out a quiet sigh of relief once Chloe’s cried faded away. As much as the image of a hacking, drooling Chloe trying to flirt with the nurse was hilarious, she was more than happy that the girl was too spoiled to stay in the same room with her.

The sound of footsteps drew near, before they stopped directly at her bedside. A snicker. “Hi, Marinette.”

“Go away, Adrien,” Marinette grumbled.

A blond head came into view to peer at her through her breathing gap, an amused smile on his face. The sight of her nurse only made Marinette glower and sink deeper into her mountain of pillows. “It’ll be quick, I promise,” he said.

Adrien looked completely out of the place in the dreary prison people called l'hôpital. His blond hair was perfectly coiffed, and his green eyes were always cheerful and sparkling. He even made scrubs look like something meant for the catwalk. When Marinette first saw him, she wondered if he accidentally wandered into l'hôpital thinking that he was at some sort of weird hôpital gear photoshoot. Maybe if she didn’t feel like her lungs were constantly burning and she didn’t have this stupid tube in her in nose, she would’ve found Adrien swoon-worthy. Honestly, she probably would. Eye-candy wasn’t her first priority at the moment though, not when she couldn’t really do basic human functions like _breathing._

Marinette shifted in discontent as he only waited and smiled, like he was only there to mock her and her terrible lungs. “ _Fight me_ ,” she growled.

More snickering, as the pillows began to shift and _no he was taking down her pillow fortress!_ Marinette couldn’t find the strength in her to resist, though. She groaned as Adrien tore down her fortress pillow by pillow, returning them to their proper place at the head of the cot.

“Maybe later,” Adrien chuckled, pushing her hair away from her face and shoulders. “Relax, I just want to take your vitals.”

“Fight me, c’mon, let’s go,” Marinette moaned as he put on his stethoscope. Feeling rather defiant but too tired to protest, she let herself turn into a rag doll, refusing to meet Adrien’s laughing eyes all the while.

~~~~~~~

So peaceful. Life without Chloe the Chihuahua was so peaceful. Marinette couldn’t believe she almost forgot a life without Chloe, especially since she’d only shared the room with her for two days. Well, two very long, whine-filled days.

Tired of staring at the news, Marinette flipped the TV off and relished in the beautiful utter silence that permeated her now private room. She doubted that the other cot would remain empty for long, but she wanted to savor the fact that she was all alone for the first time in days, since the time before Chloe.

She turned to look out the window, where she had a picture perfect view of Paris. She loved being able to look out at the skyline, taking pleasure in simply staring out and imagining herself flying over the rooftops. Maybe if she wasn’t stuck in her cot and if she was crazy enough, she’d try it sometime...

Her wicked headache was doing a good job of making her delusional.

Marinette looked at her bedside and grabbed the plush ladybug that sat there. Alya had stopped by earlier with that and a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the boulangerie. “Why a ladybug?” Marinette had asked.

“Don’t you know, girl?” Alya said. “Ladybugs are a symbol of good luck. With this, you’ll be out of l'hôpital in no time!”

As much as Marinette’s sardonic side begged to differ, she was grateful for her best friend’s concern. Not to mention, the ladybug was rather adorable. According to the tag it came with, its name was Tikki. She distantly wondered what Adrien would think of Tikki. He wouldn’t dare wrestle the plush from her arms like he tore down her pillow fortress, would he?

A knock at the door. _Speak of the devil._

Now that the privacy curtain was drawn aside, Marinette could see Adrien coming in and closing the door behind him. He looked over and beamed at her, making her scoff in her throat. “I see you’ve had visitors,” he noted as he walked over, gazing at the assortment of gifts at her bedside.

Marinette shrugged. “Just a couple of friends,” she said hoarsely. She watched Adrien inspect the balloons and treats before stopping at the bouquet of flowers, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Are those flowers from a friend, too?” he asked.

“Yeah, they’re from my old collège classmate, Rose,” Marinette said. She had to hide a snicker with a cough, which devolved into hacking, but she couldn’t help feeling amused. If she wasn’t delusional from a lack of oxygen, she might’ve suggested that Adrien actually sounded a little _jealous._ Of course, she didn’t trust herself when she was constantly dizzy from coughing every other minute.

Then she noticed the bemused smile on Adrien’s face as he watched her cough. She shot him a look that she hoped said _shut up_ and not _God have mercy on me._

“What the heck are you doing here anyway,” Marinette mumbled once her coughing subsided.

“It’s lunchtime.” Only then did Marinette notice the tray that was in Adrien’s hands. Oh.

She might’ve muttered out a merci as Adrien set up the tray table and propped her cot up so she could sit up to eat. Unfortunately, as the cot moved, Tikki tumbled off and onto the floor. Marinette reached after Tikki with a weak “noooo” before Adrien stooped down to pick it up.

“Is this another gift from a friend?” he asked, grinning at the plush ladybug.

Marinette crossed her arms and turned away. “Ladybugs are good luck,” she said stiffly.

Adrien chuckled as he tucked Tikki into the crook of her arm. “Then you’d better keep it close so you can get better faster.”

“Go away,” she grumbled.

“Why? Am I _bugging_ you?” Marinette whipped her head around to stare at her nurse, who was giving her a cheeky and way too self-satisfied grin.

“Why you – why don’t you fi – ” Another episode of hacking and coughing seized her before she could finish her provocation.

Adrien chuckled and only gave her another brilliant smile. “I won’t fight you, _Buginette_ , because I know you’ll win,” he said. With a wink, he slipped out of the room.

Marinette looked down at her lunch, frowning.

Stupid Adrien.

Stupid, beautiful, smiling Adrien.

She grabbed her spork and shoved a spoonful of courgette in her mouth.

Dammit, it was pretty good.

~~~~~~~

Just _who_ did this guy think he was?

She had told Adrien that she wanted to nap after he checked her vitals, and he did so just ten minutes ago. She knew, because she had just opened a text from Alya, the last in a chain of messages where she said that she’s getting discharged in a few hours. Marinette had sent the text, put her phone down, and only just lay down when she heard a knock at the door. She elected to ignore it, but the door creaked open anyway. “ _Marinette?”_ she heard her nurse whisper.

What the hell was Adrien doing in her room?

A part of Marinette wanted to shoot upright and glare at him and ask what beeswax he thought he had in her room while she was sleeping. The other part, though, was curious about what he’d do. Not to mention, she just did not feel up to dealing with him again just yet.

She heard him walk around to the other side of her cot where her bedside table was, to where she had her body facing. Marinette didn’t sense any movement, nothing being put down on the table, not a sound. Was Adrien staring out the window? Staring at _her?_

 She almost flinched when she felt a large, warm hand smooth her hair. Almost. In fact, Marinette didn’t know if she was even breathing as that hand traveled down to trace her jawline. She fought to keep her breathing level, hoping her heartbeat wouldn’t betray her either.

The hand lingered a moment longer before slowly drawing back. “ _Sleep well, Princesse._ ” Marinette’s mind swirled as she processed what she just heard. Did Adrien just call her a princesse? First Buginette, now Princesse?

The sound of footsteps drew away before the door closed again, leaving the room in blissful stillness once again. Marinette waited a couple of heartbeats, making sure that she could only hear the hum of the machinery and the sound of her own (now somewhat normal) breathing. She slowly opened her eyes, and almost flinched at the unexpected addition to her bedside table.

A black cat plush, with a golden bell at its throat. Its big, emerald eyes stared curiously back at her. Marinette blinked slowly at the creature, before reaching out to pick it up.

Something dropped from the gap between the cat’s arms, fluttering back onto the table. Curious, Marinette propped herself up on her elbow and folded the cat into the crook of her arm alongside Tikki, before reaching out for the scrap of paper. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she slowly unfolded it.

All that was written on it was a phone number, and a beautifully written “fight me?”

Marinette didn’t know whether to laugh or to let that strange fluttery feeling in her stomach overwhelm her. After all, how in the world could anyone find a drooling, hacking girl attractive? But when she looked down at the admittedly cute little black cat in her arm, she felt her heart swell dangerously and couldn’t find it in herself to answer her own question. She peered at the tag on its ear to find that its name was Plagg. Marinette giggled to herself as she hugged it a little tighter and rolled onto her back, sinking into the sheets.

“Stupid Adrien,” she murmured to herself. “Doesn’t he know that black cats are bad luck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I replaced the coffee cup with Plagg. I couldn’t help it, it was too perfect! Anyways, I’m having quite a bit of fun playing around these “imagine your OTP” posts. More are coming soon!


End file.
